


King Alistair and Queen Cousland

by covertCalligrapher



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Frustration, Tumblr fill, king and queen of ferelden, nsfw bc why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covertCalligrapher/pseuds/covertCalligrapher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection (or soon to be one) of all my nsfw tumblr prompt fills, as they usually tend to be a lot longer than my normal ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Alistair and Queen Cousland

**Author's Note:**

> All of these are nsfw, and will _probably_ be mostly alistair/female cousland. I have another place for my cullen/female trevelyan nsfw fics, so this is for good old Alistair. Chapter titles will tell the pairing and type of sex or the sentence prompt for it.
> 
> My tumblr is [here](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/) to submit prompts to or just whatever. Shoot the breeze with me because I'm a lonely person, you pick.

“You lied to me,” she said quietly, voice sharp and eyes narrowed.

“It wasn’t a  _lie_ , per se,” Alistair said nervously, sitting up from the bed. “It was maybe a  _half-truth_ –or it was never even really said anyway.”

She was standing by the door still, her robe open and shimmering in the dull moonlight. The page had just left, fleeing as soon as she had dismissed him with a few terse words and the letter he had delivered clutched in her hand. Her face was turned towards him, expression hard. “You were  _hiding_  my brother’s letter from me.”

He sat up at the accusation, skin suddenly flashing hot with anger. “I did not  _hide_  them.”

“This letter says he told me about finally freeing our parents remains over three months ago but it’s strange,” she said as she started walking over. “I don’t recall hearing he had finally managed it.”

“So you automatically assume I was keeping it from you,” he snapped back, squinting to see her in the low light. She was just so damned  _small_ , he’d probably end up losing her if he forgot to look down.

“Well I  _can’t_ seem to think of  _anyone else_  who would do it.”

“Do you think I’d even have a reason?” he asked loudly. She made him so  _mad_  when she got like this. At this point he was being obstinate so she wouldn’t have the satisfactory of knowing she was right  _yet_  again.

“I don’t know why you even do  _half_ the things you do,” she said hotly, folding her arms over her chest. The letter was crumpled in her fist, her knuckles white even in the darkness of the room. “Sometimes I don’t even know if you think at all before you do something.”

“That’s right, because I’m Alistair the Idiot!” he yelled, suddenly years away and four different kinds of defensive. “I’ve never had a genuine thought a day in my life and you’re  _perfect_!”

Her fist flew so fast he barely had time to flinch before she connected with the post of their bed. She hadn’t even been aiming for him, her stance still angled toward the bed. Making no move to straighten up, she let out a shuddering sigh.

“They’re my  _parents_ ,” she said quietly, not facing him and voice shaking.

He wanted to say something, his anger suddenly snapped like a bowstring, and the backlash stung. He really felt like Alistair the Idiot then, the entire plan of saving the news until after her nameday entirely stupid in the aftermath of her outburst still ringing in the air. His hands hovered in the air around her, unsure and afraid to touch her. He wanted to  _tell_  her what he was thinking, that he  _did_  think, that he had been thinking of  _her_  when he hid the letters.

“I’m sorry,” he said lamely instead of  _I should’ve told you sooner_.

She turned slowly towards him, her face smooth like she got whenever she was overwhelmed. It was the face she had made when they’d stumbled through the Gauntlet and seen her father, when he’d nearly been cut in half by a dragon, when she found out one of them would have to die to stop the Blight.

Clouds may have parted or more time than he thought must have passed, but he could suddenly see her face in such stark detail that his heart clenched painfully. She looked  _hurt_ , that years-old pain of her home being burned to the ground shining in her eyes. She wasn’t one to get emotional, she had always been the calm, collected leader he’d modeled himself after, but in moments  _just_  like this one, he was reminded of the girl who had stumbled into Ostagar and handed him her family sword and shield after they had stumbled away from the Wilds, Ostagar burning brightly and eerily silent. Maker preserve him, all he had wanted was to protect her a little longer and give her that closure she had sought for so long.

Words always scrambled around too fast in his skull for him to ever grab them properly. It was amazing he’d ever been able to give speeches what with the way his words failed him even when he was trying to speak with his wife. She got that part of him and he loved that she understood and that she never pulled away when he reached for her.

She didn’t pull away then, just let him press her against his chest while she sucked in a hard breath. Her arms didn’t come up around him but he didn’t care in the moment, his hands holding her tightly against him as he murmured  _I’m sorry_  again against the crown of her head. It dragged on for what felt like forever, the entire moment so loud even though the darkness was silent.

“Why?” she finally managed to croak into is chest, his skin soaking in the warmth of her words.

“I wanted to save it,” he said haltingly. “After your nameday, as a present we would go to the funeral.”

She looked at him for a moment before stretching up on her toes and reaching for him, the invitation for a kiss. His heart almost beat out of his chest in relief and her acceptance. It was a soft kiss, a brush on her lips before she pressed back, simple and easy in the slide of their mouths. He would never grow tired of kissing her; her lips were an easy place to find solace.

When she pulled back, her face still and eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “When did it start?”

Heat rose in his face as he tried to come up with three different ways of telling what he’d done at once. “It was only a few months ago,” he said quickly rambling. “I can show you the other letters if you’d like, I wrote back to him to tell when we’d be coming but I forgot to say that it was a surprise–I really should’ve I don’t know how it slipped my mind–”

She cut him off with a kiss that was harder the previous and his heart jumped at it. It was The Kiss, the one she always used to tell him what she wanted. His gut clenched in anticipation and the want to make it up to her while his head made itself sick spinning in circles, trying to figure out why she was doing it. He was sure her fist still ached from striking the post and but her mouth was insistent against his and he’d always been too eager for his own good.

She pulled him the short distance to the bed, still so strong for her size. He moaned at the sensation of being on top of her, her skin so warm through the thinness of her shift and open robe. She responded in kind, her legs wrapping around his hips and tightening until they were pressed flush together.

He broke from her once she started grinding into him, half to collect his thoughts and half to gather her what she thought she was doing. “What are you doing?” he asked breathlessly, her hips still rolling into him.

“I want to–” she started before flushing darkly and pushing her hair out of her face. She stopped to let them both breathe for a second before she scratched her nails over his shoulders. “Let me do this,” she said finally, eyes shining again.

He had always been terrible at saying no to her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and she was still strong enough to flip them both so she was in his lap. She was insistent, beating out her frustrations with him like used to when they were younger. Thinking right then was difficult, but he could still remember the end of every meeting with a dignitary or going over budgets. She would grab him and pull him into a closet or empty room and give herself over, pulling him along until he didn’t care that people outside their little rooms filled with each other could hear it all.

Her hips were rolling in his lap, her slip hiked up over her hips. The robe had slid off one shoulder completely and he pulled it aside, her skin shivering as his hands ran over old scars and remembered close calls.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, eyes  _so_  heavy as he took her in. His mind was spinning in circles, lungs forgetting how to breathe as she rocked harder, his pants still frustratingly  _on_.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered back. She seemed to be on the cusp of laughing before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled them together, a soft moan slipping out as her breasts pressed against his chest.

He pressed his lips to hers as he started to tug her slip up. Her skin was so  _warm_  against his hands, he couldn’t help the sounds he made as he kissed her. She was marvelous and her thighs were clamped around him so tightly he feared he was going to die from how dizzying she was. From the heat and pressure of her in his lap to her nails scraping up his back, he could feel his gut starting to clench tightly.

She pulled away to give him air and he panted with his eyes shut, her hips stilling in his lap. Her lips were at his neck then and he groaned aloud at the feeling of her teeth dragging on his skin. His hips bucked up into her and she understood it, judging by the way she gently bit down on his pulse point.

Her hands were softer than when they were younger, but he could still feel those old callouses dragging over his skin in the best way possible as she slid down his body. Her hips wiggled over his for a moment before she moved off and tugged his pants down. He raised his hips to help her and she was back on him after tugging her slip fully off.

The  _sound_  she made as she pressed herself against him could’ve killed him right there. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her voice was raw as she rocked against him, his length trapped between the two of them as she teased them both. He grabbed her hips and lifted her, skin too hot and arousal nearly painful to endure more of her fevered rocking.

He slid inside of her easily, the entire thing a routine that always took his breath away. The first and only woman he had ever loved, he still marveled at how she made him feel, made him  _want_  her. He couldn’t close his eyes when she was like this, his vision tunneling until she was all he could see, hear,  _feel_. Her face beautiful and the way her lips parted was gorgeous and his heart hammered even louder at knowing it was for  _him_.

She started to move faster on top of him, a desperate sound pulling free each time she ground her hips against him. The room was  _stifling_  and no matter how many times her cries ran off the rafters, he would always remember the room a being too small to hold them both. She wrapped herself around him so tightly he could barely breathe, her fingers digging into him as she rocked them both together.

 _“I love you–”_  he managed before she slammed herself onto him particularly hard, his vision going spotty for a moment as he tried to get a hold of himself. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging her in an effort to move it along because he was sure he’d endured too much to keep going for much longer. Calloused thumbs dragged over her sensitive skin, her answering whimper all he needed before pressing harder, fingers twisting in all the ways he knew she loved.

She came, hard, when he bent her back so he could press his lips to her chest. That was what always got her, her legs shaking as she cried out his name like a prayer, the feeling of her and how much he  _cared_  for her nearly always pulling him over right after her.

Her arms held him loosely as he rolled so they were both on their sides, her fingers tracing shaky paths over his skin. His hand rubbed over her back, her muscles loose and skin slick. He pressed his lips to her forehead, a murmured  _I love you_  slipping out as she yawned quietly. It was so different from earlier where her words were sharp and he couldn’t think past the stubborn anger that had clouded behind his eyes.

It was a while before either spoke, drowsiness overcoming Alistair as he laid there in her warm embrace. When she finally asked when they would leave, he was startled awake at the suddenness of the question, but whispered it was supposed to be in a week, the day right after her nameday. She didn’t answer, but he could feel her grinning in his shoulder. He fell asleep with that sense of peace he got whenever she smiled for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Original post for the fic](http://jellopunch.tumblr.com/post/116535755738/hi-how-about-king-alistair-and-cousland-in-31)


End file.
